


Hit Me With Your Best Shot

by TheWritingCorner



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crime, Dick Grayson is a dork, Drama, Gen, Original Character-centric, The Batfamily appears, Underworld War, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingCorner/pseuds/TheWritingCorner
Summary: The red mask gleams as the vigilante leans closer. Even with the monstrosity covering his face, she can hear the surprise when the infamous Red Hood speaks.“Youkilled the Joker.”Mia didn’t know how to react tothat. She knew she wasn’t precisely intimidating, but something in the vigilante’s tone made her bristle in indignation.“It was an accident, for fuck’s sake!”Or.The Joker dies, chaos ensues.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lucky Shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980040) by [TheWritingCorner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingCorner/pseuds/TheWritingCorner). 



Gotham was a cesspool full of crime, but everyone knew that.

The city was a game of chess set for the pieces to fall, fall, fall. Death was a common occurrence, just another piece falling prey to the other side. Black tower takes white pawn, white horse takes black bishop. A never ending nightmare, a never ending game.

Killers and thieves made the rainy streets their battlefield. They fought in the night, wearing corrupted white as their cloaks. Slowly, ever so slowly, they spread across the city, killing, defaming or buying the black pawns. The city defenses were slowly chipped away until it was inches away from being devoured. Then the Dark Knight appeared. The black king in all but name, he took back the board and inspired the dejected pawns. Finally, it seemed as if light would overtake the city.

Every reaction creates an equal but opposite reaction. When Gotham Police Department got Batman, the Underworld got the Joker.

A new game had been set with new pieces appearing on the board. A Robin over here, a Harley Quinn over there. Red Hood and Black Mask. Red Robin and Poison Ivy. Nightwing and Talon. When one side gained a general, the other did too. A fighter for the black pieces, meant a fighter for the white. Nothing was going to change.

The killers still killed, thieves still stole, and the police still tried to safeguard Gotham. Still,still, _still_ things continued as they were. There were no check mates, no changes on the board.

Until one night everything changed.

The Joker was shot.


	2. Act One: The Killing Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end starts with an impulse. Instinct saved Jonathan Smith's life, but it may have screwed Mia Ortíz.

Act One: Long Live the Clown King

The Killing Night 

Jonathan Smith hated many things. He had a list. It was alphabetized and everything. Drug dealers, killers, and written reports took the first three spots in the list, but his new partner Mia Ortíz was slowly rising in the ranks. The worst part was that Ortíz hadn’t done anything wrong, per se. She was simply too nice, too passionate about the job, too much. It checked every cliché in the book, but Jonathan believed himself to be a cynical cop, jaded after years working in Gotham PD, so Officer Mia Ortíz’s enthusiasm simply did not sit well with him.

“Hey, Smith.”

With her desire to help and her wide-eyed gaze, his new partner could pass as a Metropolis citizen, and yet she was a Gothamite born and raised. She took every precaution a native citizen would take, used the slang Gothamites created. Ortíz was a Gothamite, and Jonathan Smith could not believe that anymore than he could believe that she was one of the top of her class in the Police Academy. He had gone as far as to check her file for any inconsistencies, but they were none. And that? That pissed him off.

“Smith.”

At twenty-five, with a height of four feet eleven inches Mia Ortíz should not be working for a Police Department in one of most dangerous cities in the world, much less in Gotham City, _capital_ of crime. Working in the GCPD was _suicide_ . The retention rate was nonexistent, the lifespan short. No one in their right mind joined the police before they turned thirty, and even then, it was mostly adrenaline junkies and superhero-wannabes. Hell! He had not joined until after his thirty-fifth birthday! Therein laid the problem. If Ortíz was an adrenaline junkie or a superhero wannabe, there was a high chance she would end up dying while playing the hero, and he did not want that. As much as his partner made him uncomfortable, as much as he believed she should not have joined the force while being so young, and as much as the month and a half since she had been assigned as his partner had been _annoying_ , he did not wish for Ortíz to die an early dead. She may be rising up ranks on his ‘most hated’ list, but she was simply too charming to hate.

“Smith?”

Well, most of the time. Most of the time she was too charming to hate. That day was not one of those times. For the past two hours he had been subjected to Ortíz’s constantly blubbering about being at the wrong place at the wrong time. The Latina had worked herself into a tissy worrying about their patrolling assignment, and while he understood _why_ , he did not feel particularly forgiving. It was their job to patrol in the area they were assigned. It was their job to patrol the alley with the only back entrance of the Gotham City Museum of Antiquities. It was their job to make sure not one of the robbers would escape. That they had been tipped about the robbery by a strange source did not matter, neither did the maniac laughter that had started filling the air fifteen minutes ago as the Joker made his presence known. Their job was to guard a potential escape route, and their job they would do. The ‘strange’ feeling Ortíz was referring to did not matter, because even if the idea of being so close to the maniac gave him chills, they had to do their job straight to the letter. They had no time for one of his partners convoluted plans, even if-and this is something he _would never admit out loud_ \- her plans tended to end surprisingly well for them.

“Smith!”

Fighting the urge to light a cigarette, Jonathan looked left and down to meet his partner’s worried gaze. Pity swelled up and he sighed deeply.

“Yes, Ortiz?” His tone was neutral, but even he could hear the thread of annoyance that made itself known despite his attempt to keep it hidden.

“I think we may have a problem, something doesn’t feel right.” …And there it was. For the third time in the last two hours, Ortíz had referred to her _gut instinct_. Her surprisingly accurate gut instinct they could do nothing about, because they had a goddam job to do. A job that was much less dangerous than it could have been, because they were guarding one of the exits that no one would willing choose to escape from. One end of the alley was a dead end. The other? The other had a police barricade blocking the way. No one in their right mind would use their patrol route as a escape route. He was certain of it, but well, he could humor his partner and hope that listening to her would lead her to shut up, or ignore her and her hissing. Not much of an option, but oh well.

“Why would you think that?” Letting his tone run as dry as anything could get in Gotham, the city of eternal rain, he prompted his partner to unload her worries in him while glancing around their surroundings. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her fidgeting before taking a deep breath.

“Okay, so I know I am sounding paranoid, but hear me out. I think, and this could only be my gut, but I think we are being followed.” Her words did nothing to sway his mild annoyance, but the way she was jittering did gave him a stop. The words nervous and Mia Ortíz did appear in a sentence, unless the sentence was “Mia Ortíz did not get nervous.”. Stopping midstride, he turned to face her and waited for her to continue. “I know the Commissioner set up a barricade around the Museums perimeter to put stop of the robbery before it began. But we didn’t know it was going to be the _Joker_! And-and the payaso has always been batshit crazy!” He had to snort there and then, feeling guilty at Ortíz’s offended huff when she heard him.

“Sorry, sorry, just the _bat_ shit part. Because the bat always stops the Joker? Sorry, it is just funny.” Cue to an even more offended huff from his partner and a groan.

“This is not the time for bad dad jokes Smith! I swear I feel as if someone is gonna pop out of nowhere!”

Placing a hand in her shoulder in hopes of calming her down, he offered a comforting smile. “There is no one else here, Ortíz. Gordon knows how to do his job well. We got this posting because he wanted to introduce you to a high stress situation without much risk.” Granted, he found his partner to be particularly annoying, but it was his job to help her get accustomed to the force, and for that, she needed to learn how to maintain her calm in a high stress patrol. “Look, the only way into the alley is the door we are guarding. The steps you hear? Our echo. That mysterious noise? Probably a cat.”

That was the moment when Gotham city decided to spit on them, like it liked to do to their citizens every once in a while, and the door in behind them, the door they had turned their backs to in order to finish their sweep of the alley, banged open.

Jonathan twisted around and his hand when to his gun, only to freeze when he saw the gun pointed to his head and the clown behind it. The Joker. _The motherfucking Joker was pointing a gun to his head and his partner was frozen in her place_. Fuck.

“Sorry for interrupting you two lovebirds in your little escapee, but you two are between me and my path to hilarity!” There went the chills, racing down his spine. He couldn’t even reach for his walkie-talkie, it was too much of a risk with how the Joker was known to be a little too trigger happy. Some part of his dilemma must have shown in his face, because the bastard in front of him decided to continue with his diatribe. “Now, now, now! Don’t needa be such a party pooper, Mister Officer! As I always tell Batsy, the party is just gettin’ started!”

They were going to die. If they didn’t do anything, they were going to _die_ . The Joker didn’t take prisoners, officer or civilian he killed them all. Hell, he had heard he had even killed one of the _Robins_. If they didn’t do something, anything, they were going to die. He was going to die at forty-three without saying goodbye to his husband or their daughter. And Ortíz, Ortíz was going to die at twenty-five frozen in shock, seemingly paralyzed in fear.

That caught his attention. In the month and a half of partnership, he had not seen his partner freeze out of fear once. She fidgeted, she glanced around, but freeze? Not once. Looking at her from the corner of his eyes, he noticed how she relaxed after a couple of seconds. He noticed how when she started turning, it was almost predatorial. He noticed how her left hand twitched, but not her gun hand. He noticed when she **moved**.

In a matter of seconds three things happened.

Two shots were fired.

One buried itself on the wall, the other in a chest. A body fell to the floor. The other froze.

Silence reigned, until Jonathan opened his mouth.

“Well, that was anticlimactic. “He said while looking down at the Clown King’s bleeding chest. He saw Ortíz blinking twice and then she heard the small. “Oh shit.” she let out. Coughing to hide a hysterical laugh, he grabbed his walkie talkie. “We have a 10-52. Repeat. We have a 10-52. We need an ambulance. Now.”

Dropping next to the body, he checked the pulse and grimaced. Ripping the elaborated sleeve, he applied pressure on the open wound and addressed his shocked partner. A partner that was pacing and muttering under her breath. “Good aim, Ortiz. But next time try not to aim towards the chest. We need them alive to bring them to justice.”

“What. _Did I kill him_?”

“He is not dead, yet. But it looks like he is going to die. There is a lot of blood, and it doesn’t seem to be stopping.” There was a beat of silence, and then.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Mierda.”


	3. Act One: Mia Ortíz and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning texts, punny coffee shops, and chaotic workplace. The day begins as usual for Mia Ortíz, then things take a turn for the worse.

 

Mia Ortíz’s day started with the insistent ringing coming from her phone at _four in the morning_ . The cheerful ringtone mocked her from where her phone laid in her nightstand, so she reached with her arm to grab the damned thing, only for her sleep-addled mind to make her _roll off the bed_ . Hitting the floor with a soft ‘thump’, Mia privately swore to never again give her number to friendly classmates, because no matter how nice they seemed they were _not_. The offended meowls coming from her bed seemed to agree with her.

She spent the next couple of minutes contemplating whether she should just fall asleep on the floor, or make the inordinate effort of getting back to bed. The decision made itself when her phone let out another cheerful _Piririri~_ from the nightstand. Using her arms, she dragged herself back up to bed, motivated to make the cheerful ringing _stop_ . Once she was back in bed, she glared at the offending electronic and grabbed it to put it on _Do Not Disturb_. Glancing at the home screen while she did that, Mia groaned when she saw exactly who had send the text.

“What the fuck is he doing awake at 4 AM?” Rubbing her eyes, she unlocked the phone and opened the messaging app.

RagToRiches: Raise and shine, Chihuahuita! ヽ(^o^)ノ

RagToRiches: What a good time to be alive!

TinyButAngry: IT’S FOUR AM

TinyButAngry: why must you be like this

RagToRiches: But you answered! What exactly are you doing awake at four AM? ◉_◉

TinyButAngry: I WAS ASLEEP

TinyButAngry: YOU WOKE ME UP (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

RagToRiches: Upss (｡◕‿‿◕｡)

TinyButAngry: GO TO SLEEP RICHARD

TinyButAngry: GOODNIGHT

Muting the app, Mia checked her alarms once again to make sure they were in place, and dropped the phone back in her nightstand. Closing her eyes, she attempted to go back to sleep.

̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳

Two hours later the room was filled by a loud buzzing, causing Mia to shoot up from where she was sleeping and for her cats to meow in offense. Glancing at her clock, she ran a hand through her hair and slowly extricated herself from the blankets.

Hitting the off button and grabbing the glass of water on her nightstand, Mia went to turn on the room’s light. Absently drinking from the glass, she went on making her bed and started her morning routine.

By 7:08 Mia walked into her kitchen, freshly showered, dressed and with two cats running afoot. Running a hand through her hair, she looked around the kitchen for her coffee beans, only to stop and groan when she realized that she didn’t have any left. Muttering under her breath, she went to open her fridge, but it was dangerously empty.

“I forgot a grocery run, didn’t I?” Pouting at her almost empty fridge, she grabbed the sole yoghurt cup and then went looking for a spoon. Then, plastic spoon in hand she tore into her sad little breakfast. Scrolling through her twitter feed, she paused at a headline that caught her attention. PENGUIN GOONS ROB A JEWELRY STORE IN THE DIAMOND DISTRICT. “Uh, I probably should change my insurance to cover Penguin, if he is that active.”

Finishing her meal and throwing away both the spoon and the cup, she opened the cabinet where she kept the cat food and sighed. It was freshly stocked.

“Of course, I remember to buy the cats’ food, but I forgot to buy my own.” Mia then grabbed two cans of cat food and finished her morning routine. Then she checked the time and cursed when she realized that if she wanted to make a pit stop to buy breakfast, she wouldn’t have time to dry her hair. Grabbing her purse, she rummaged around it until she found a hairband and wound her hair up into a tight bun. Checking her appearance in the mirror, Mia smiled to herself when she saw that she had managed to get all her brown hair into the bun. Then she opened the door, stepped out and made sure to lock the door before turning around and walking down the hall towards the stairs.

Skipping down the stairs, her mind went to the schedule for the day. Smith had told her that they had been supposed to patrol the Fashion District, but the day before they had gotten a tip about a supposed robbery in the Gotham City Museum of Antiquities, so there was a chance their patrol schedule could be change to a different area. The logical choice would be to put the rookies on the street far away from the conflict zone, but for the past month and a half, Mia had seen how one by one the other rookies had been exposed to situations in which they could ‘cut their teeth’ in the crime in Gotham City. Currently, she was one of the few who had not been exposed to an overtly dangerous situation, and something was telling her that it was her turn. “Isn’t that nice? Fresh blood has to learn the hard way.”

Shaking her head, Mia opened the door to the lobby and waved to the few people in the lobby. “Morning!”

“Morning, Mia! Still haven’t had your morning cup?” Dani called out to her from the corner, while pointing to the space under their eyes. “You have some monstrous eyebags going on there.” Rolling her eyes at the athlete, she nodded.

“Sadly, no. I forgot to do a grocery run, and now I have to stop by an Starbucks or a coffee shop.” Sighing melancholically, she tried to send her neighbor a pitiful glance. From what she could see from their amused expression, she failed. “Do you have any recommendations, Dani? Since you are a coffee nerd and all that.” Sam raised their right eyebrow- which wow she was jealous that was something she couldn’t even do that, and she was a _cop_ \- and nodded.

“Yes. You get out in The Gantry station, right? There is a cute coffee shop about two blocks north from the station. It’s called City of Bats and it has wonderfully themed breakfast sandwiches and pastries.” She heard Dani snicker before continuing. “I specially recommend The Dark Danish paired with the Justice Latte.” Stopping in her stride, Mia turned to Dani and gave them an incredulous look. “Also, I am a coffee connoisseur, not a coffee nerd. Get it right, _chica_.”

Snorting, Mia shook her head.

“Only you would manage to find a superhero themed café and call it cute, _mijo_. But well. If you recommend it, I gotta try it.” Smilling, she turned around once again and skipped to the exit. Throwing her neighbor, a look from over her shoulder, she winked. “Thank you for the recommendation! Have a nice day!”

̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳

Stepping out of the metro station, Mia took a deep breath and relished the fresh air. Or well, the relatively fresh _city_ air in comparison to the metro’s, she admitted  
while eyeing a car leaving a trail of exhaust fuel behind it. She knew that city air was not as clean as the suburbs, but after living her entire life in  
Gotham, the city smelled like home. By far a much better smell than the sweat and decay that seemed to permeate Gotham’s metro.

Taking out her phone, she went to the map app and entered ‘City of Bats’ into the search bar. After connecting the earbuds to the iPhone, she popped the buds into her ear and pressed the ‘Go’ option.

Following the directions from ‘Gotham City Map’, she found herself in the café in and fought the temptation of snapping a picture of the interior. It was so _cute_ . And popular, too, if the long _long_ line to the counter said anything. Checking the time, she nodded when she saw that there was still plenty of time before her shift began and stepped into the line. Glancing around to check the other patrons in the store, her attention went back to her phone when she saw that there was no one suspicious around. Tapping around her phone, she decided to call the bothersome individual that had texted her at an unnamable hour. While waiting for the call to go through, she checked the menu and laughed when she saw the names in the list. She just _had_ to try The Bat _mocha_ bile. And really? They had a pastry called Pain au Bat? That was hilarious.

“’lo?” When a sleepy voice answered the phone, Mia made no effort to hold back her snicker.

“Really, Dickard? Awake at four but not at eight? How do you even get to work in time?”

“For one, I don’t take forever and a half waking up, _Barbie_ .” Letting out a disgusted noise at the nickname, Mia moved forward, following the line. “I also have the day off, so that is _that_.”

“Lucky you, Princeling. I, on the hand, might have to-”

“ **A** **_Soy Wonder_ ** **for Laura! A Soy Wonder for** **_Laura_ ** **!** ”

Head snapping up at the call, Mia held back a laughter. “Wait. Did I just hear the words ‘ _Soy Wonder’_? Where in the world are you? It’s too early to be in a stripper club Mia!”

Feeling her right eye twitch, she debated whether to hang up or not, before sighing. “No Dick. I am not in a stripper club, but yes. You heard right. I am in the City of Bats café, and there is a drink called the Soy Wonder.”

“Where is this marvelous place, and why am I just hearing about it? Also, what are you ordering?”

“It’s two blocks from The Gantry, and because _I_ just heard about it. And as far as I know, none of your other friends live in Gotham _and_ take the metro.” Eyeing the line, she saw that there were only a couple of people left. “I am ordering the Batmochabile, the Sandwich of the Night, and the Rollo Hood.” After she finished the sentence, Mia smiled in satisfaction when she heard the choking noise coming from the other side of the line.

“You’ve _got_ to send me the address for that place.”

“Of course, what kind of friend do you think I am?” Pausing for a moment, she shook her head. “Actually, don’t answer that. It’s almost my turn to order, so I gotta hang up. Just wanted to call and show you _when_ is the appropriate hour to call friends.”

“Okay, one: Rude. And two: have a nice day, Mia.”

“You too, Dick.” Hanging up, she looked up and stepped up to the counter to place her order.

̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳

Entering the station ten minutes before her shift started, Mia blinked in astonishment when she saw the downright chaos inside her workplace. So, apparently the tip about the robbery was more important than she had thought, and wasn’t _that_ alarming. She had only seen the scene before her twice in the past month and a half, and both times were before and after an attack from the Gallery of Rogues.

“Hey, Ortíz! You were almost late!” Stopping where she stood, Mia turned towards the speaker and smiled when she saw Ted waving at her. Tapping her wrist as if to mime a clock, she shrugged.

“Check again Anderson, there is ten minutes left before my shift begins. I am early.” Winking at her fellow rookie, she moved closer and pointed at the flurry of movement around them with her chin. “Did we get info about which member of the Rogue Gallery is trying to steal from the museum?”

“Yep, and check this: It’s Gotham’s favorite clown. The Commissioner is taking point in this one.” Holding back a groan, she glanced to Detective Smith’s workstation. Yep, there was her partner in deep discussion with the Commissioner. It was her turn, then.

“Man, I _hate_ clowns.” She said while clicking her tongue in annoyance, she gave Ted a last smile and rolled back her shoulders. “Alright, wish me luck.”

Weaving around the desks, she made her way towards her field training officer’s workstation. Jonathan Smith was a wonderful mentor, confident and capable, he always made sure that everything went along swimmingly while out on the street. She only wished he didn’t view her in such a rose-colored way. Yes, she was nice. Yes, she was passionate about her job. Mia believed there was nothing wrong with that, but Smith seemed to disagree.

Stopping next to her desk, she remained standing and waited politely for her superiors to stop speaking. Mia left her gaze trailed around the room, all while paying close attention to what Gordon was telling Smith. From what she heard, she was indeed going to be at the museum when the robbery was supposed to happen, but out of the way. Relaxing slightly, she let her eyes stop at the coffee pot. Should she drink another cup? It was way too early in the week for the kind of bullshit she would have to go through that afternoon, but she didn’t want to be too jittery when the time came.

“Good morning, Officer Ortíz.” Snapping out from her thoughts, Mia straightened and greeted Commissioner Gordon with a smile.

“Good morning, sir.”

After he left towards his office, Mia looked at her FTO and smiled. “Morning, Smith.”

She could _hear_ his suppressed sigh, and Mia barely held back her annoyed twitch, but at least he answered her. That was already better than she had gotten for the first week.

“Morning, Ortíz.”

Moving to sit on her chair, she turned the chair so she was facing Smith, and asked. “Okay, I have to ask. We are in homicide, why are we dealing with a robbery tip?”

 _Smith_ did not suppress _his_ annoyed twitch when he answered. “The Commissioner wants you to have an stressful field experience under your belt before he lets me take you to a crime scene, and in all honestly, I am tired of patrolling. So here it is. Your field experience.”

Biting back a sarcastic ‘ _Joy’_ , she settled back to work on her paperwork. At least that wouldn’t kill her. Too soon, she corrected herself while looking at the pile in front of her. It wouldn’t kill her too soon.

̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳

If one would ask Mia at what point of time her day took a turn for the worse, she would say that it took a drastic turn for the worse two hours into their assignment. Specifically, the moment when she heard the recognizable ‘thump’ of a body falling into the ground. In that moment Mia realized that she had _shot_ the Joker and her shot had _hit_  
the clown.

Exhaling  
softly, she put her gun back into its holster and ran a hand through her hair  
before letting out a small curse.

“Mierda.”

“Why so serious, Ortíz?” Jonathan asked and threw her a wan smile from where he was  
trying to stop the bleeding. Looking at him with incredulity, she felt her  
right eye twitch.

“Seriously? You get a sense of humor _now_ ? I almost feel insulted,” Mia said while moving  
towards the door from where the Joker had left the museum. Closing it, she turned around and leaned into it. “And I am serious, because as soon as the news spread out I am going to have Quinn on my ass. And I may have _killed_ someone!” She had a feeling she was somehow a little bit screwed.

“I can’t tell you not to worry, but I can tell you that this was in self-defense. If you hadn’t shot him, _we_ would be dead,” Smith told her steadily, while continuing to administer what Mia though was first aid.

Sighing, she stood up and moved in strides towards their car. She couldn’t stay still. For the next couple of minutes, she continued pacing around the alley, until the ambulance finally arrived.  Then, she stopped where she was and raised her hands to let her hair fall from where she had it up. When this was done, she proceeded to run her hands over her hair in hopes of calming herself down from the adrenaline rush that still ran through her system.

Then, and only then, did she realize that she was bleeding. Not as much as the clown that was being hauled into the ambulance with a police escort, but bleeding nonetheless. Stepping up to one of the paramedics that was not attending the Joker, she tried-and probably failed- to smile.

“Hey, can I have some bandages? I didn’t notice until now, but I think I got grazed,” Mia  
said sheepishly. After receiving the roll bandages, she thanked the paramedic and turned around in hopes of asking Smith for help. Instead, she was treated to the arrival of the Bat.

It was nothing dramatic, as the rumors would have liked to claim. He did not materialize out of darkness. He did not transform from animal to vigilante. He did not rappel down from the roof. Instead, he simply opened the door that the Joker had used and stepped into the alley, and yet, the entire air in the alley _changed_ . It was as if Gotham itself was telling her _This one, this one is my Knight_ . This was not the first time Mia had seen the Dark Night, but she supposed that it was her first time _meeting_ the man behind the legend. Taking a deep breath, she resisted the temptation to try and fixed her hair, and she moved towards Batman in tandem with Smith.

“What happened here?” The Dark Knight himself asked, and Mia had to fight the temptation of glancing at the pool of blood that could be seen on the floor.

“We were assigned to patrol the alley as a way to prevent any of the robbers from escaping,” Smith said from her left, and she remained quiet while debating whether bandaging her arm as he spoke would be rude or not. “We had been in the alley for two hours when the door banged open,” Smith nodded towards the door,” the Joker came through and threatened us. I was unable to act to the threat, but Officer Ortíz wasn’t.” It was her turn, then.

“When the Joker entered the alley, my back was facing the door. I didn’t turn around, and when I realized that it was very likely we would die if we didn’t act, I just _reacted_ ,” she said while staring steadily at the Bat. “Sadly, it seems I overreacted. The Joker is being taken to St. Luke’s with a bullet to the chest and heavy blood loss,” she did grimace at that. She hadn’t meant to fire the gun, but she had reacted and, well, she _was_ a very good shot. “A police escort is with him, sir.”

She could _swear_ the Bat was sending her a wary look, combined with incredulity, but she couldn’t see his face to confirm that suspicion.

The Bat remained silence, just there, staring. After a couple of seconds, she could hear her blood drip into the floor. The silence remained, until…

“You better treat that.” With that, the most famous of Gotham vigilantes went back to the museum. Blinking, she turned to Smith.

“What the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! The metro station mentioned in the chapter comes from [this](http://batmangothamcity.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Gotham_City_Rail_map-750239.jpgs) map of the subway.  
> Hope you like it~ Next chapter may be coming anytime from one week to two weeks. Also, apparently ending chapters with a curse is A Thing now. Ups?  
> I have also decided that the story is going to be divided into arcs. Welcome to Arc One: Long Live the Clown King  
> Next Chapter’s Name: A Murder of Bats


	4. Act One: A Murder of Bats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mia complains about paperwork, goes home and it's promptly kidnapped by a random vigilante.

“Paperwork,” Mia said.

“That is indeed paperwork,” Jonathan answered with a smirk. Somehow, somewhere in between been confronted with the reality of death and seeing the Joker fall to the ground, he had gotten a sense of humor. The jerk was _enjoying_ her suffering, she could see it in his smirky face. _Rude_ . For weeks she had been trying to make him laugh, _weeks_ , but no, he just had to wait for the most inappropriate moment.

“ _Paperwork_ ,” she groaned.

“Come on, Ortíz. Don’t be like that, it isn’t _that_ much paperwork,” Jonathan said with a smile from his desk, where only one incident report laid unfilled.

Raising her head from where it was resting in between her arms, she sent her FTO a glare and gestured to the piles surrounding her.

“ **_Paperwork_ **.”

Mia had wanted to be a detective from the moment she knew what detectives did, but never had she imagined that working for Gotham PD would require for her to do so much paperwork. If she had known, she would not have been so eager to join the force after college. Alas, it was too late. She had already sold her soul to the force, and now she could only continue doing her work.

“What did you expect? You killed the Joker. Apart from the usual forms, you also have to fill a report explaining your actions, and follow the usual proceedings. You know, those set in place so the shrinks catch crazy cops before they start killing for pleasure?” Jonathan said, logic defeating the last vestiges of reluctance that Mia felt. Still…

“Wait. Did we get a confirmation already? It’s the Joker _truly_ dead?” Mia felt her voice breaking at beginning of the sentence, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. If it was true, if she had really killed the Joker, she was _fucked_.

“Yes. Xue radioed while you were getting coffee. The Joker has officially been pronounced dead at St. Luke’s at 19:47, March 27, 2019.” Oh, she is so screwed. There is no hope, she is _so_ dead.

“Shit.” She drew the curse out for a couple of seconds, before she let her head fall in the pile of paperwork waiting to be filled.

“You know, I hadn’t realized. But you are cursing a hell of a lot more than usual,” Jonathan pointed out, not even bothering to look up from his report. “Are you okay?

“I am _definitively_ , absolutely not okay,” Mia wailed from her desk. She could fill everything out after she finished with her hysterics, because, well, she knew she was overreacting, but what else could she do? She had killed one of the most fearsome villains in _Gotham_ . **Gotham** the city in which the most harmless of the villains still had a kill counts in the hundreds. “I killed the fucking clown!”

“What did you expect? You shot him _in the chest_.” At this point in her dramatics, Mia saw Smith looking up at her and raising a eyebrow expectantly.

“I didn’t expect for him to die! The Joker is like a- shit. What was the word? That bug that you just can’t kill? Ever? ¿Cómo se dice?” Closing her eyes briefly, Mia tried to remember the English for _cucaracha_. “A cockroach! Yeah, that. I always thought the Joker to be like a cockroach. Everywhere, nasty, ugly-as-sin, unkillable. Like, it wouldn’t have surprised me if el demonio kicked the clown out of hell for being a goddam annoyance.”

Mia heard Jonathan choking on air all the way from her desk, which okay, her description was kind of funny. Still, _rude_. Man, what an asshole, she couldn’t believe she once thought he was nice.

“You are not wrong, per se. He _is_ like a cockroach, but apparently he is pretty killable.” Jonathan said and then crossed himself. “And for the other thing, let’s just cross our fingers and hope _that_ doesn’t happen.”

“Amen.” Nodding, Mia took a deep breath and straightened her spine. It was time for her to drop the dramatics and do her work. Dealing with the fall out of her mistake would be a problem for tomorrow. She just had to finish her paperwork and she could go home and sleep her fears away.

Steeling herself, she looked at paperwork that laid in her way of her beauty sleep and began to work.

̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳

By the time she finished her paperwork most of the homicide department had gone home for the night. There were a couple of stragglers, but a quick glance to the clock mounted on the wall let her know that she barely enough time to turn in her work and catch the next train. God bless Wayne Enterprises and their funding of the subway, for without them the subway would be no more.

Standing up, she stretched and grimaced when she heard her back cracking. Mia loved her job, but the hours of leaning over a desk and filling paperwork always left her feeling off. She could sit still for hours while watching TV or playing videogames, but stay still for something she was not interested in? Impossible.

Before she submitted her forms, Mia went over her notes and nodded to herself when she saw that everything was in place. Placing the forms in their place, she moved back to her desk and started to organize it, fixing the mess she had made while working. When she was done, she put on her jacket, took her purse and turned to leave when her name was called.

“Officer Ortíz, a word please.” Turning around, she moved towards her boss.

“Yes, Commissioner?” Quickly, she went over anything remotely illegal she had done in ever, but she the only thing that occurred to her was the Joker incident that had just occurred, so she braced herself for whatever her boss was about to throw at her.

“Take tomorrow off, the press is probably going to storm the precinct in the morning, and since you are in the middle of this mess it would be better if you are not present when that happens.” she nodded, and waited him to continue. “I’ll tell Jonathan, but remember that you have to report for a psych evaluation when you get back.”

“Thank you, Commissioner.”

“Also, Batman may drop by to check on you. So don’t be surprised if you see him around.”

“Thank you for the warning! See you in two days, sir.” Smiling at her boss, she waved and turned to leave the precinct.

“Have a good evening, Officer.”

̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳

The trip back to her apartment passed in a blur. There were no shadows following her, no shady strangers and no robbery attempts. For a weeknight in Gotham, it was a goddamn miracle for a subway trip to be so calm. In a city in where the shadows were alive and criminals hid in every corner, travel at night was never safe.

Yes, the streets had been _safer_ after the Bat and his clan had taken to them, but things were never truly _safe_. Mia liked it that way just fine. Gotham without the constant threat of violence would not Gotham, it would not be her home.

Still, by the time her apartment door was in front of her, Mia was _twitchy_. The ride home had felt like the calm before the storm, and she did not like that. The last time she had gotten home without any incident had been when she was fifteen. It simply did not happen, until it did.

Looking blankly at her door, she breathed in and exhaled softly. She was stressing for nothing. Her door had not been broken, her lock had not been picked, and she was sure she had closed the windows when she had left in the morning. There was no one in her apartment. Nodding to herself, she unlocked her apartment door and stepped forward. Closing the door behind her, she continued with her routine, putting her purse and her jacket in the hanger and moving into the kitchen.

After giving her cats their dinner, she fiddled with her phone and let her shoulders drop. Opening her messenger, she send a couple of texts to her friend and family assuring them that she was fine. When she was done, she send one last text before she started on her dinner.

TinyButAngry: Kill me now.

By the time she had put her _chilaquiles_ into the oven, her phone had notified for a couple of answers.

RagToRiches: Now Barbie, don’t be like that.

TinyButAngry: Let me live, Dick. I had a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. All capitalize. It was that bad.

RagToRiches: That bad, then?

TinyButAngry: Wait until tomorrow. It will be in the news. Maybe it is out already. I only know that it was THAT bad.

RagToRiches: What happened???

TinyButAngry: I met the Joker. The Joker is no more.

RagToRiches: ???? Please, explain.

TinyButAngry: The Joker tried to escape through my patrol route, and found my partner and I. He threatened us. I reacted and shot him to disarm… My shot went wide… I kinda ended up shooting him in the chest???

TinyButAngry: I am so screwed.

RagToRiches: ……..

RagToRiches: That IS bad.

RagToRiches: But well… No one is going to be too mad at you? It was self-defense, and everyone knows the Joker doesn’t leave witnesses most of the time. The media is gonna love you

TinyButAngry: ??? Yikes??? Why??? I _killed_ someone. I didn’t WANT to kill him.

TinyButAngry: Also??? I’m more worried about the Bat??? And the gallery of Rogues. The idea of the gallery of Rogues finding out is making me freak out.

_RagToRiches is writing…_

Before Dick could answer her, Mia realized that she could hear her cats meowing. Which was strange. She had just fed them, so there shouldn’t be a reason for their meowing. Tilting her head in confusion, she stood up and left the kitchen towards the meowing. Mia froze on the threshold to her living room.

There was _vigilante_ sitting on her couch. A vigilante sitting on her _couch_.

“Fuck my life,” muttering under her breath, she crossed her arms and glared at Red Hood. Of course she got the only one of the bunch who used guns and had killed before, _of course_ . Her luck was just _fantastic_. And it wasn’t like if she could just turn around and leave the apartment until the masked maniac left, her chilaquiles were at stake.

Her muttering had attracted his attention, and now Red Hood was looking at her. No, not looking, he was _checking_ her out.

Mia knew that he was probably searching for her gun, but that didn’t stop her from bristling.

“What are you doing in my couch?” Mia asked, while looking at him in the eyes. Or at least in the mask’s eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious? I was waiting for you,” Red Hood said and stood up. “You  see, I heard the most curious thing during patrol.” He continued while strolling closer to her. _Strolling_ , as if he had all the time in the world. What an asshole. “Also, you need to improve your situational awareness. I have been here since before you got home.” She needed better locks. Maybe even an alarm. And a guard dog. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea.

“What did you hear, _matador_ ?” She could make an educated guess, but Mia was _hoping_ he had decided to visit because he had heard of her amazing asado negro and not because of the Joker thing. _Anything_ but the Joker thing.

“I heard _you_ killed the Joker.” Mia held back a sigh, so it was the Joker thing. Dammit, she was done for. If one of the little bats knew, the big bat was ensure to follow. She was in _trouble_.

The red mask gleams as the vigilante leaned closer and even with the monstrosity covering his face, Mia heard the surprise and doubt in the Red Hood voice. “Did you really?”

Mia didn’t know how to react to _that_ . She knew she wasn’t precisely intimidating, but something in the vigilante’s tone made her bristle indignantly, _again_.

“It was an accident! I didn’t meant to kill him!”

“But you did.”

Sighing, Mia ran a hand through her hair and nodded. It was the terrifying truth. She had killed the Joker. She, Mia Ortíz, had killed the Clown Prince of Gotham. “Yes, I did.”

She had expected many things from the admittance. A swift death, a beating, or an express ticket to Arkham Asylum. Things like _that_ , she had expected. What she had **not** expected, was for Red Hood to _pat her in the head like a dog and to tell her that she did a “Good Job.”_

“You do realize that I am not a dog, right?” Mia deadpanned while delicately taking Red Hood’s wrist and moving it _away_ from her.

“Of course, but it doesn’t take the fact that you did a wonderful job, Ortíz.” Red Hood said, and Mia could hear the giddy undertone of his voice. “The damn clown had it coming from the beginning. And now the streets are finally free of the menace.” He continued while gesturing emphatically. “I think you did great, so I am sorry I have to do this.”

“Do what-” before she could finish her sentence, Red Hood grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. “Why?” Mia couldn’t do anything but whine and flail in hopes of making him drop her. Vain hopes, since he was build like a brickhouse, but hopes nonetheless.

“Well, we need to talk to you.”

Stopping her wriggling, Mia tried to look over her shoulder.

“And when you say we, you are referring to?”

“ Barman, Robin, Black Bat… You get the idea.” Red Hood said, while he moved towards the window that lead to the firescape. “They want to interrogate you to see if you are the next up an’ comin’ villain.”

“Okay. That is reasonable enough, but why the fireman carry?”

“I can’t afford to let you go,” he said cheerfully while opening her window and climbing out of her apartment. “Also, you are _tiny_. Can’t be sure your legs will allow you to keep you.”

Growling, Mia hit Red Hood’s back. She understood that Batman would want to meet the killer of his main nemesis. She understood that he would want to interrogate her. She understood that the Joker being killed was alarming.

What she didn’t understood was _why_ in the world she had to be manhandled while her kidnapper climbed the firescape. It just seemed unsafe, and the view was giving her mild nausea… But her mother did not raise a fool, and asking the man that was carrying her to put her down while in a firescape seemed like a pretty foolish decision. Huffing, she closed her eyes in resignation.

“ _Please_ don’t drop me. I like living and being alive.” By now she was just complaining for the cheer desire to be annoying.

“Jesus, don’t you shut up?”

“Not really. Especially not when I am being _kidnapped_.” Putting emphasis on the last word, she held back a smirk when she heard the infamous Red Hood sigh out of frustration.

 _Oh, annoying him was_ **_fun_ ** _._ Blinking at the thought, Mia decided that as soon as she got back home, she would go to sleep. If she was more interested in annoying her kidnapper than escaping, she had a Problem. Being kidnapped by someone, even if that someone was a vigilante famous for only killing criminals, was supposed to be nerve wracking, and yet there she was, joking around. She _needed_ sleep. The fact that she didn’t notice that they had arrived to the roof of her building until she was dropped into the floor was just another proof of that.

Letting out a small scream of surprise, she breathed out in relief when her ass bounced against the roof. Good, she was not going to die a splat on the ground.

Looking up, she froze when she saw that she was surrounded by vigilantes. Batman, Robin, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin, Batgirl, The Signal, and Black Bat. She was surrounded by all the vigilantes that patrolled Gotham.

What even was her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it goes! I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> Next Chapter: The How & The Why: An interrogation by the Bats.


	5. Act One: The How & The Why: An Interrogation by the Bats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting ensues, Red Robin snoops and Mia has an untimely realization.

“Before we begin whatever this,” Mia said as she gestured as if to encompass the entire roof, “is, I would like to point out that if you had only _asked_ I would have gladly met up with you.” Eyeing her kidnapper, she added. “Also, kidnapping is criminal offense… Not that I think _you_ care, but like? _Seriously_?”

Even with Red Hood’s chuckles resonating on the roof, the silence after a minute or so, the silence was almost deafening, or would have been, if Mia had not been too preoccupied categorizing the costumes of the infamous Batclan? Murder of Bats? Vigilante group. She was too preoccupied categorizing the costumes of the vigilante group. Unlike Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, the Flash, and about ninety seven percent of Earth’s superheroes, Gotham’s particular vigilante branch was dressed in muted colors. A much smarter alternative than parading in bold red, but still a curious choice. Gotham’s vigilantes dressed in the most ridiculous costumes, and yet they were smart when it came to the colors of said costumes… Where was the logic on that?

“You know,” Red Robin said casually, causing Mia’s gaze to snap towards him, “most people would be pretty freaked out by now.”

“I am a cop,” Mia deadpanned, “I am trained to maintain composure in tense situations, also, I am always halfway towards a panic attack.”

“That- Okay, yes, that does make sense according to your records.” Red Robin nodded while his fingers flew over, was that a holographic screen? “You do have regular meetings with a shrink.”

“Wait. Hold on. Pause and rewind,” holding up her hands up, she looked at Red Robin, “are you going through my records?”

“We do have to check that you don’t run the risk of becoming all villain-y and all that.” Nightwing piped up and pointed out _helpfully_ from where he was making a great attempt to imitate a gargoyle. “You would be surprised by the number of people, good people, that turn evil in this city.”

Focusing on Nightwing, Mia tilted her head curiously. She knew that voice, or at least, it sounded eerily familiar. She had heard that voice before, she was sure of it. There was sense of just _knowing_ , and the fact that when she looked at him she was reminded of _someone_ . It was just odd, she was _sure_ she would not forget anyone with Nightwing’s jawline or muscle definition. And yet, there was _something_ familiar about the man in her roof.

“And smart people! You would be surprised the number of smart people that go crazy,” Batgirl pointed out from where she was sitting cross legged on the floor.

Reluctantly, she had to admit that they were right. Nygma, Quinzel, Fries, Dent… There were plenty of smartypants with a perchance for evil. She also guessed that it was better safe and sorry, but Mia wasn’t exactly reassured that they had started the interrogation by implying that they thought she was going to become a villain.

“Okay, so let me get it right. You went to dig into my past to see if I had some kind of tragic backstory that would have prompted me to run around killing people in tights?” Mia asked, while raising an eyebrow. “I think I have a better taste than _that_.”

“Oh! I _like_ you,” Batgirl said, “people are usually more offended when we accuse them for being supervillains.”

“Again, I am a cop. I would be an hypocrite if I did so. Since I have accidentally arrested the wrong person before.” Shrugging, Mia smiled at Batgirl. “It’s always to be better safe than sorry, as long as you don’t harm anyone else in the process.”

“What happened this afternoon?” Finally, the Bat- who had been imitating a statue for the past five minutes and was honestly _creeping her out_ \- asked.

Frowning, she looked at him. She had already _told_ him what happened, it wasn’t like her story had changed- Oh. Oh. So _that_ was what he was doing. He was asking to see if she had changed her story to make it more believable, something she would have done if she had been lying at the beginning. Smart. Insulting that he thought she could not see the common interrogation tactic from a mile away, but smart nonetheless.

“Smith and I were assigned to patrol the alley behind the Museum, but since I was nervous because it was my first time encountering a member of the Gallery of Rogues, I was kinda jump-y throughout the patrol. About two or three hours in my jumpiness went to the roof, and soon after the Joker jumped on us. Well, not jump exactly, just took us by surprise.” Mia said in a matter-of-fact tone while looking at Batman steadily in the eyes. “He was pointing a gun at Smith, and I was facing the other way. When I realized that we could die in the alley I overreacted and shot. The shot was supposed to hit him in the arm, but my momentum changed the trajectory and it hit him on the chest. I panicked, and Smith called an ambulance,” Mia finished her story and took a deep breath. “And that is all, unless you wanted me to tell you about my failed attempt at human interaction when I asked a paramedic for bandages.”

“You have a _gift_ for storytelling, Ortíz,” Nightwing said, a hand over his mouth.

Now, Mia had learned many things in Gotham University. She had learned how to read subtext, how to understand the cues and nuances of conversations, how to be observant. Mia had learned how to be a good politician, but she had not learned to put much of a filter on what she was saying when in shock. That is why it was understandable for her to blurt the first thing in her mind to answer Nightwing, after all, when he had said her last name something _clicked_.

“Go to hell, Grayson, you don’t know my life,” she said and was going to continue, but the weight of what she said fell on her shoulders. “Wait. Hold on. No. Just, no.”

Groaning, she hit her forehead with the heel of the palm. It was so obvious, how had she not _seen_ it before? The texting on ungodly hours, the uncanny flexibility he should have lost with age, bruises and wounds that don’t quite match the stories Dick has told her, the scars, the jawline, the _cheekbones_. Fuck, she was either stupid or unobservant. The silence permeating the roof made her lean towards the former.

“I hate my fucking life.” Hissing under her breath, she lowered her hand and was faced with the attention of the entire Bat-vigilante group. _Wowzers_ , was that intense.

“What did you just say?” Robin said, and Mia spared a thought about the injustice of life. The sidekick could not be older than fifteen, _max_ , and yet he was _taller_ than her. How rude.

“I said ‘I hate my fucking life’,” she answered helpfully. “In less than twenty-four hours I managed to accidentally kill the Clown Prince of Gotham, paint a target on my back, get kidnapped by the only vigilante of the city that _kills people_ , get thrown into a full-blown interrogation by one of the most intimidating superheroes’ in the world, and accidentally realize that the friend I made in the Academy is actually a _part-time superhero_ . I don’t know you, but for me that is the perfect formula to create a pretty terrible day. The only thing that would make this day worse was if….” Pausing, Mia’s eyes darted to the fire escape. “Shit. I left the oven on. My chilaquiles are probably burned. That is it. My day is officially _ruined_.”

“That is a pretty shitty day,” Red Hood said, nodding at her.

Next to him, Robin was glowering at her. On the other side of the roof, Red Robin had stopped typing and Nightwing was looking at her pretty intensively. The Signal seemed frozen in shock, Batgirl was just looking at her, Black Bat had not moved from the moment Mia had been thrown into the roof. Which was admittedly equally impressive and weird. And Batman? Batman was just there, looming and being intimidating. What he did best.

“What makes you think that your friend is the same person as Nightwing?” Red Robin asked.

“Honestly? It’s a mix of just a feeling, a sense of deja vu, the fact that Nightwing seemed familiar, the sarcastic comment and the jawline. Mostly the sarcasm, the jawline and the familiarity.” Her gut was also a determining factor, but she was not sure they would believe her if she said so. Most people didn’t, even though her gut was right most of the time. “Have you seen Dick Grayson’s jawline? It’s pretty damn memorable.”

“I don’t know what to say to that.” Nightwing said.

“You are aware that secret identities are supposed to be _secret_ , right?” Red Robin said helpfully.

“Noooo, Sherlock. I did not know that,” Mia drawled and sent him a _look_. “I am but a poor kid from the city, I have nothing close to common sense.”

As if she was going to tell anyone that one of her best friends moonlighted as a masked vigilante. Not only it was beyond stupid, but she _liked_ Dick. He did not deserve the media shitstorm that would fall upon him if it was discovered that he was Nightwing.

Sighing tiredly, she ran a hand through her hair, and she looked at Batman.

“I swear I won’t tell anyone, and you can even survey me so that you see that I don’t. Can I go? I need to see if my chilaquiles are salvageable, and I need sleep.” She was _tired_. The day had been one accident after another, and she didn’t know if she could deal with anything else.

“You are free to go, but we will be surveilling you to determine if you are a threat, and to intervene if you are attacked.”

“Thank you,” nodding at the Bat, she stood up and waved at the rest of the vigilantes in the roof. “I would say nice to meet you, but due to the circumstances it would be a lie. So, good night, so long, and adios.” Turning around, she moved towards the fire escape while throwing a last comment over her shoulder. “I will talk to you later, Nightwing.”

Later, when she was in the relative safety of her apartment, and after salvaging her precious chilaquiles, Mia would freak out about finding out the secret identity of a superhero. She would freak out because she realized that she had stepped into a whole new playing field. A playing field in which she amounted to nothing. She would freak out because someone she cared about was constantly putting themselves in danger for the sake of others, again. She would freak out because she was so out of her depth she did not know what else to do.

Later, Mia would allow herself one hour to freak out and let out all the stress, the anxiety and the fear that day had brought. After the allotted time was up, she would get up, shower, eat dinner, and call her psychologist to schedule a meeting. She would pick up the pieces, and lock her fear and her anxiety and her stress into a chest, and then she would look at the situation critically. She could do nothing to change the past, but she could do her best to survive.

She would go to sleep, but not before checking her phone one last time and finding a message that caused the load weighted on her shoulders to lighten, knowing that she was not alone in her plight.

RagToRiches: Don’t worry, you will be alright.

RagToRiches: I will make sure of that.

But that would happen later. Now Mia Ortíz was tired, stressed and anxious while slowly making her way down seven floors, to reach the window Red Hood had left open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anyone that commented and kudoed last chapter! Thank you! This chapter is dedicated to all of you!  
> Next chapter is the last one of the "Long Live The Clown King" Arc and it's called "It's On the Papers."


	6. Act One: It's On the Papers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker's dead gets out and the pieces begin to fall into place.

It’s started slowly, a group of paramedics talking to one another at the end of their shift. Trading stories, messing around. Nothing out of the ordinary had been mentioned… Until a paramedic’s bloody clothes were brought into question. 

“Let me guess, someone died?” Matt asked.

“Yes,” Eric said and paused for a second before continuing. “I can’t say I am too sorry about arriving a second too late to this one, though.” The shocked expressions of his coworkers made him realized exactly  _ how  _ he had sounded, but before he could continue he was interrupted by Jenny.

“What the  _ hell _ , Eric?”

Eric shrugged.

“I mean, haven’t you heard?”

“I don’t think anything you can say can make what you just said alright, man.” Matt said.

“Dude, the dead man was the  _ Joker _ . It’s usually not right to feel happy about someone’s demise, I know that,” Eric said and rolled his eyes.  _ Seriously _ . How low where their opinions of him, he wondered. “But like? The Joker’s dead? That is something I can toast to.” 

“Hold on,  _ hold on _ . Repeat what you just said. The Joker is  _ what _ ?” Mira said while leaning forward expectantly. 

“Dead. Gone. Kicked the bucket. Sleeping with the fishes. He has passed on. Not on this physical plane anymore.  _ The Joker is dead _ .”

That was the beginning.

̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳

_ My Alibi _ was one of the many seedy bars spread throughout Gotham.  Full of lowly grunts and third-class criminals, used more as an information den for those unimportant enough on the crime pyramid that had no outstanding warrants ethan anything else. With Gotham’s increasing population of crime lords, supervillains and mad geniuses, the Gotham Police had to put their concerns about the city’s lowly crooks to the backburner. Still, criminals were criminals, and them, like any other individual on the wrong side of the law, paid close attention to any rumor that could pose a potential risk or a potential benefit. So, it came at no surprise that at exactly eleven thirty-four a lowly crook whose name is not worth mentioning banged the doors of the bar open looking like a housewife with a gossip so juicy that she couldn’t wait to share. 

The no name crook turned to the bartender and gestured to the old television sitting on the corner of the bar. 

“Turned the TV to GNN,” he said while appearing shocked. “You won’t believe what I just heard!”

As this was not the first time the bartender received such a request, he did as asked with disinterest, only to drop the remote in shock when he heard Gotham’s News Networks announcement.

_ “Breaking News: The Joker is dead!” _

At this all eyes turned to the TV as silence fell over  _ My Alibi _ . On the screen, Summer Gleeson looked as shocked as any of the crooks. 

_ “According to a source, Gotham PD barricaded the Museum of Antiquities when they got the tip that one of the members of Gotham’s infamous Gallery of Rogues would attempt to steal from the newest exhibition of Ancient Chinese Artifacts donated by Wayne Enterprises. What Gotham PD had not known was that the Joker was the Rogue in question. Unprepared for Gotham’s Clown Prince, the police let themselves be distracted by the Joker’s henchmen while the Joker exited through one of the Museum’s backdoors. Our source then explains that the alley outside of the door was being guarded by a rookie cop and their TO, but as of now the source refuses to give the names of the officers. What we do know is that in an effort to avoid a casualty, the rookie officer shot the Joker point blank to the chest. The Joker was later pronounced dead at St. Luke’s Hospital at 19:47, March 27, 2019. Gotham’s Police Department is currently not receiving questions about the shooting, but Commissioner Gordon will speak on a press conference tomorrow at noon to talk more about the police department’s next move.” _

The bar remained silent until GNN returned to its usual broadcasting, and then it exploded into a flurry of movement. Henchmen called their coworkers, mafia members texted their ‘families’, and unaffiliated crooks looked at each other in astonishment. The Joker was dead. Gotham’s supervillain royalty had been killed. As each one of the individual patrons realized this, the tension on the bar rocketed. What came next? The question for the ages. The Joker was dead, and he had left behind a power vacuum on the top. War between Gotham’s factions was inevitable, but the question that ran through every criminal’s mind was not about the identity of the new King, or  _ Queen _ , of Crime. No, they were wondering about their continued survival. After all when the cats come out to play, the mice die a terrible dead. They were the lowest of the low, they knew that.  At the end of the day the crooks in  _ My Alibi _ were replaceable. 

How many pawns would their leaders be willing to part with, in order to reach such a coveted position? How many of them would die because of a rookie cop that got lucky and killed the Joker?

̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳̳ ̳

In the morning of March 28 the civilian population of Gotham City woke up to the news, and then proceeded to celebrate. Gotham civilians and officers alike proceeded with their day with a light heart, unaware of the shadows that slowly extended themselves all around the city. 

The crooks and common criminals, on the other hand, were aware of the shadows waking throughout the city. Slowly, but surely, every major player of Gotham’s Underworld was made aware of the news. Slowly, but surely, they decided to take advantage of the chaos that would make itself present on the days. One by one the worst of the worst, Gotham’s own Gallery of Rogues received a formal invitation to the Iceberg. One by one, the pieces fell into piece. For what does the council do, if their King is gone? They start a civil war for the throne.

End of Act One: Long Live the Clown King  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Sorry I took so long in updating, I hit some writer's block at around the same time I hit seniorities, and let me tell you that is hard to get over. But I am back, and bringing the first arc to an end! Coming up next: Second Act: Run the World. Next Chapter: It's On the News. The villains meet and plot. A hit on the poor rookie is put and things take a serious turn... Or as serious as it can be with Mia as a protagonist.


	7. Act Two: It's On the News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rogue Gallery meets and a game is proposed. One thing is for sure, the Joker's death was only the beginning.

Act Two: Run the World

It’s On the News

“The King is dead,” they whisper.

“The Clown is dead,” they shout.

The people of Gotham of Gotham take to the streets to celebrate. Finally, _finally_ , they are free.

But are they ~~truly~~?

They have forgotten what hids in the shadows, forgotten that rulers are easily replaced. The citizens of Gotham have forgotten this: without the shadows, all the ugly things are bared to the eye. Without its King, the Gotham Underworld is headless. Without its King, the Gotham Underworld no longer has a shadow to hide behind.

What does a predator do, when their hiding place is gone? Well, they step into the _light_.

In the shadows -amidst the celebrations, amidst the cries of joy- plans began to brew. The civilians celebrated, but the players of the game knew better. In a city full of crooks, killers, and thieves, an empty throne would not, _could not_ remain vacant for long. However, there was a question on every mind, a query on every mouth: who would rule next? Plant or Penguin, Coin or Croc? Gotham’s Rogue Gallery was full of apples ripe for picking, and the criminal elite was aware of that.

They were nightmares that walked on the daylight, omens of death and destruction. They were smart enough to realize that there was a hole in the hierarchy that needed filling. Soon the wheels of the machine began to spin and soon Gotham’s most infamous received an invitation to the _Iceberg Lounge._ Sharply dressed messengers spread throughout the city, lethal elegance on their step. Not once did any of them seem worried about the thought of facing Gotham’s most infamous, after all, they had been trained _well_.

One by one by one, they were invited. One by one, the invitation was accepted.

While the naive mouses celebrated in the light, the cats began to prowl in the shadows. From Poison Ivy to Scarecrow, Gotham’s worst made their way to the _Iceberg Lounge_. No one desired to miss their chance, for the empty throne was as tempting to them as the apple was to Eve.

Soon the _Iceberg Lounge_ ’s most private room was filled by noise. Rancorous laughter filled the air, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. With many a villain meeting, the threat of violence was keenly felt, and yet. Yet there was not a dagger out of place, not one gun unholstered. There was a general agreement, you see, regarding the _Lounge_. If there was anything as close as a neutral zone, it would be the Penguin’s establishment. At least for those who prefered the shadows. No one wanted to risk being barred from the place where most businesses took place. Where the shadows were hired and fired. The Lounge was the Hub of their business, and being cut off from it was threat enough to keep the volatile personalities that made up the Rogue Gallery from lashing out.  

A war was brewing on the horizon, that was a fact. With such information at hand, there was one question present in every villains mind.

 _Why had_ _Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot called them here?_

It was illogical, it was _madness_ , nothing like the Penguin general behavior, and that made them wary. At the end of the day, they were criminals. Nothing was sacred to them. Not even a neutral zone, not if the motivation was strong enough. Would Cobblepot use poison against them? Ridiculous notion, Pamela was amidst them, she would notice. Not only that, but the Penguin was all about business, and a massacre on his establishment was _bad_ business. So, once again the question was.

_Why had he called for them?_

Their question was soon to be answered. Silence fell over the room, extinguishing any conversations as the man in every one’s mind entered the room. Standing with his spine straight, Cobblepot’s aristocratic demeanor was not encumbered at all by the collected weight of the gazes of some of the most dangerous men and women from Gotham, if not the world.

He didn’t seem nervous. Not at all.

Instead, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot was _smiling_.

As he reached the stage set at one end of the room, he cleared his throat and began to speak with an eloquence that screamed of a rich upbringing.

“Well, I have confirmed it. The Joker is dead,” pausing for a second, he winked at the crowd. “Good riddance.”

Laugh filled the room, drowning the protests coming from the Joker’s most loyal minion. Harley Quinn seemed to be ready to get up and protest, but Pamela Isley’s hand on her arm stopped her from doing so. Instead, the former psychologist sat back and gritted her teeth as she sent a deadly glare towards the stage.

“However, even if the clowns death is _most fortunate_ , we have an issue on our hand,” Cobblepot continued as the laughter tapered off.  “By dying he has left behind an empty throne for the taking, and with it, a brewing civil war. Now, I have called you here because it wouldn’t do if the throne ends up going towards one of our _less deserving_ compatriots.”

A murmur of agreement broke out throughout the crowd, in the far corner Jonathan Crane nodded in understanding.

“I offer a solution for that problem. A game or tournament of sorts,” at this, Edward Nygma leaned forward, his interest seemingly piqued. “I have greased some palms and acquired the identity of the officer who pulled the trigger. I will be sharing this information with whoever agrees to enter the competition. Now, as for the competition itself.”

He paused, letting the room sit in tension before resuming his speech.

“It is rather simple and truly, it is something we all do fairly well. Whoever kills the officer, gains the throne,” he said. “Of course, there are some rules in order to get a clear winner. Each of us gets _one_ turn to acquire the killer’s head. Very simple, very straightforward,” he finished and opened his arms. “No rules but the one, no barriers but ourselves. Any objections?”

Of course there were, they were _villains_ after all, they couldn’t just _agree_ to a fairly reasonable deal without some sort of arguments first. Only heroes did that sort of stupid shit. _Still_ , after some debate, most of the room was in agreement that the Penguins idea seem the best option they had at hand. Or at least the best option that did not involve an all out war between criminals. And well, while these men and women weren’t the nicest, nor the kindest, they still realized that if their crooks died it would be rather _bothersome_ to find some new ones.

And just like that, on what some would later call one of the darkest nights on Gotham, the Rogue Gallery came to an agreement. And as for Mia Ortíz’s fate? Well, let’s put a pin on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... And I am alive! Sorry for the _hella_ late update but I got an idea for another story and started writing _that_ and now college is kicking my ass. Still, I do like writing Mia's story, so from now on I am going to try to write one chapter for This Place of Wrath and Tears and one chapter for this story.
> 
> Anyway! This is the beginning of Act Two: Run the World. As you can see, things are about to pick up for our poor Mia. Next in Hit Me With Your Best Shot: Club of Lonely Hearts. The first player (Guess who?) get's their turn and after watching _wayyyy_ too much anime Mia tries to pull the Talk-No-Jutsu shit out of her ass. The results may surprise you. Or they may not, because honestly, what the hell is Gotham even.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on [this](http://identityconstellations.tumblr.com/post/130533841568/cloerner-identityconstellations) headcanon by [@identityconstellations](), because after I read it I just started to think about it and uppss, out of nowhere Ortíz was born. Currently this is strictly AU, sometime after Damian joined the Batfamily and Jason returned.  
> This is a rewrite of the fanfic [Lucky Shot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4980040/chapters/11438257), which I started at fifteen and never finished. Here is to hope turning eighteen has given me enough determination to finish this story! I will try to update at least twice a month, more if I am feeling particularly motivated.


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